


In The Garden

by GulJeri



Category: Garak/Bashir - Fandom, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, ds9 - Fandom
Genre: Cardassia, M/M, Post-War, garden, post-Stitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian comes to Garak. Now that Garak has made peace he can let Julian in, and he does.</p><p>(Takes place after A Stitch In Time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Hymn is In The Garden by C. Austin Miles

_I come to the garden alone_   
_While the dew is still on the roses_   
_And the voice I hear falling on my ear..._

 

Julian? It wasn't a question of _if_ it was the Doctor. I have in fact replayed his voice over, and over, during some of my darkest, and lightest, hours. He speaks to me often but _inside,_ not here at the gate to my garden, standing amongst the pale, wet, blooms and blossoms.

 

It's early morning. I always wake up with the first rays of sun these days, and I bring myself and a cup of tea to the garden, and I sit and watch the day begin. So quietly it creeps to life, so gentle; I have come to appreciate the newness of each day. It is always interesting to see what words will be written on the blank page of this day, or that day; what new thing the sun, and the flowers, and the voices of the children will bring.

 

But I hadn't expected this day to bring my dear friend back to me.

 

He drifts to where I sit at a small table and chairs. I handmade them myself and often as I had formed them, I had recalled and wrapped myself in the memory of lunches in the Replimat.

 

Sentimental, yes. I've come to a sort peace with the fact that I do possess that particular flaw. Sometimes I may admit that I even cling to it.

 

My eyes lock on his. Oh, those beautiful eyes. How I have missed them.

 

 _It's a beautiful garden you have, Garak,_ he says.

 

 _Yes,_ I agree, finding myself at a loss for words. Rare is that moment, but it has come upon me now. However, I do not find the quiet to be lacking. No, it is full and it is warm and it is simply the presence of my dear Doctor.

 

There's an extra teacup on the table. I had expected Parmak for tea but he must have been called to duty, or simply he had forgotten it. Here there was something larger than Parmak or myself at work. Something that knew that Julian would show up in my garden today. Our fate lines have met again. I did so hope that they would find another reason to cross.

 

Now it appears that the teacup was waiting just for him. I pour him a cup and we sip, and chat, and I tell him how Parmak had missed our tea today.

 

 _The other doctor you've been seeing,_ Julian jokes, smirking lightly over the rim of his teacup.

 

 _Parmak is a fine man, but he lacks your particular charm,_ I said, _and your abominable fashion sense. Doctor, what_ are _you wearing?_

 

We laugh together. My tongue slides along my lips and I can smell all of the things I love woven together—the hearty smell of the earth, the sweetness of the flower blossoms all around us, and that _human_ scent that is Julian and no one else.

 

We slip into silence again. Julian enjoys his tea, and I watch him. The sun filters through the bushes and fruit trees and it seems to warm his skin and bathe him in an ethereal glow.

When he's finished he begins to talk about what he's been doing on the station since the end of the war. I close my eyes and I listen to the song that are the words flowing from his lips.

 

_He speaks, and the sound of his voice,_   
_Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,_   
_And the melody that he gave to me_   
_Within my heart is ringing._

 

My eyes flutter open when I realize he's finished. He's looking at me with a small smile. He offers his hand.

 

 _You have changed,_ he says, as I take it.

 

 _I've finally found a sort of peace, Doctor,_ I answer.

 

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. He's happy for me, he says, in that one simple gesture—and I am happy too, I realize. I am happy as Julian and I wander through my garden.

 

Our footsteps are quiet upon the grass, soft upon the stones that make a crude path, and the petals of my growing children are velvet against our fingers as we stop to touch them. Our fingers painted with pollen brush against one another.

 

We come to pause beneath an arbor. Vibrant emerald vines weave up the sides, white blooms like clouds open around us, and over the top spill dollops of yellow, and periwinkle. We're half hidden in the blooms as Julian lifts his hand to cup my face. His long and nimble fingers caress the ridges that curve up to my ear, and then into the hair that's tucked there, trimmed with a few glimmers of distinguished silver.

 

Oh, how I used to push him away. But now I embrace my dear Doctor. I draw him close and our breaths catch, release, and mingle.

 

 _Tell me you have come to stay,_ but I know it is too much to ask of him.

 

I close my eyes.

 

 _Elim,_ they come open again, my heart swelling at the way my name unfurls from his tongue, _my Elim._

 

_And he walks with me, and he talks with me,_   
_And he tells me I am his own;_

For a moment my legs intend to betray me—to spill me unceremoniously onto the ground—but Julian's arms are around me and suddenly I know that they _always_ were.

 

_Careful, Elim. Love has seen you an exile..._

 

But my mouth finds his and the taste of him is more than enough to claim my soul.

 

There is no one left to banish me, no one left to direct my life in this way, or that way. My path is my own and it winds through this simple garden, and I walk it each new morning, and it is mine—and if I wish to invite my Doctor onto that path, I shall.

 

And I do.

 

_And the joy we share as we tarry there,  
None other has ever known. _

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
